


there's your trouble

by paladin_piper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action Dueling, Alcohol, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Male-Female Friendship, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladin_piper/pseuds/paladin_piper
Summary: How dueling Loghain Mac Tir affects Cecilia Cousland's life, on two separate occasions -- at Cailan Theirin's twenty-fourth birthday party, and at the Landsmeet.
Relationships: Female Cousland/Loghain Mac Tir
Kudos: 25





	there's your trouble

**9:29 Dragon, Harvestmere**

**Denerim Palace**

The smell of roast hog and spiced wine filled the air of Denerim’s Palace. Nobles stretched across the main hall as far as Cecilia Cousland’s eyes could see, their boisterous chatter drowning out the small band playing by the dance floor. Each step was taken with care as Cecilia wove through the sea of nobles, mindful not to catch the heel of her shoe on the grooves of the stone floors. Small greetings were exchanged as she walked; everyone who was anyone in Ferelden was here tonight for King Cailan’s twenty-fourth birthday celebration.

Denerim had been celebrating the young King’s birthday for the past week, and tonight was the culmination of festivities. Cecilia thought that Cailan would be sick of it by now (because she knew she would be), but he had been drinking up attention as fast as he’d been drinking his wine all night. The roast hog spinning over warm coals in the corner was from today’s hunt — the first hunt she’d ever participated in, no less. Even though the kill was not hers, the thrill of the chase was more than enough to get her adrenaline racing for the party tonight.

Pressing her hand into Delilah Howe’s, Cecilia grinned when the woman jumped. She deserved the swat Delilah gave her, giggling madly as Delilah asked “having fun, you boorish woman?”

“Absolutely.” Cecilia pressed a coral mark into Delilah’s cheek to punctuate her words. The two women were thick as thieves, and Cecilia hummed before sipping from the wine glass in her other hand. Red wine made the room spin, but it was either that or white wine, which made her sick. She’d choose the former over the latter any day.

Delilah clicked her tongue. “You need to stop avoiding my brother. Father will throw a fit to your father if you do not dance with him at least  _once._ ” 

A loud huff of annoyance escaped around the rim of her glass as Cecilia rolled her lavender eyes. “Your brother is an insufferable asshole when he’s sober. And he steps on my feet when drunk.”

“Yes, and you’re also  _ betrothed,  _ remember? You have to  _ pretend _ to at least like each other, for our families’ sake.” Delilah sipped from her glass, watching Cailan spin Queen Anora across the dance floor. Anora was practically glowing, laughing as they moved together in perfect time

“Then why are you not out there with--?” Cecilia cut herself off before saying Vaughan Kendells’ name, wanting to spit at the very thought of him and blaming her tipsy tongue for even bringing him up.

“Because Vaughan is too busy being a whore to be here tonight.” Delilah grumbled; their betrothal was all but finalized, but neither party were particularly thrilled about the other. It was no secret that their marriage was even more done out of convenience than Cecilia and Thomas’. They would be wed by next summer, and Cecilia knew Delilah dreaded the very idea as each day grew closer. “You know what he told me? That I’m not  _ pretty  _ enough to be worth his time, so when we’re married, I shouldn’t expect to see him much. And that I’d better hire some ‘pretty Elven serving girls’ for him.”

Cecilia bristled, brows furrowing. “Shithead.” Delilah was more than pretty enough to turn heads, with shimmering light gray eyes framed by strong brows, and thick black hair that offset light skin spotted with freckles. “I’m sorry, darling.”

“Kinder words than I used when he said that to me.” Delilah smirked behind her glass, winking at Cecilia while draining the goblet. A servant was quick to appear, filling both their cups from a decanter shaped like the head of a Mabari before disappearing back into the crowd. 

The band moved through several songs as the two women chatted and gossiped. Gossip could easily be a national pastime in Ferelden: who was sleeping with who, which Bann insulted which Lady while plastered, which Arls were squabbling over an acre land, he-said-she-said word of mouth trails that always ended in more of a mess than it started. 

One song caught Cecilia’s ear, something fast and traditional that she could not help but tap her foot to. Her eyes drifted to the dance floor, and she caught sight of her father pulling her mother onto the dance floor, both of their cheeks ruddy from drinks. She caught Fergus’ eyes across the room, embarrassment written on his face as Bryce and Eleanor quick-stepped across the floor, both unsteady on their feet.

Taking the opportunity of the crowd focusing on Eleanor and Bryce, Cecilia caught sight of Anora slipping away to join the two women. Being the only daughters of the major Fereldan noblemen, the three women formed a bond of friendship as they grew up together. Even with the age differences between the three — Cecilia being nearly nineteen, Delilah just twenty-two, and Anora closing in on her twenty-sixth birthday — they remained close friends since childhood. 

Anora fanned herself with her hand, and Delilah pulled a handkerchief from her belt bag to pass to the Queen. Cecilia did the same, handing Anora a folded fan that she took with a weary “thank you.”

“Cailan is rather… energetic tonight,” Cecilia commented, sipping her wine with raised eyebrows. 

“It’s because he is drunker than a nug on Feastday.” Anora shook her head. But a sheepish smile formed on her face, and she crossed her fingers over her stomach. “And I wish I was as well.” 

Cecilia and Delilah could not hide their delight as they squealed and jumped up and down. Anora and Cailan’s fertility issues were an open secret between the nobles, so any sign of a child to continue the Theirin bloodline was a positive one. Even if Anora had expressed disdain towards children in the past, they all knew she had to have at least one to appease the nobility. But there was genuine joy on Anora’s face, and it made Cecilia’s heart light and happy.

“When are you going to tell him?” Cecilia squeezed Anora’s hand. “Soon?”

Anora shook her head. “Not for a while yet, just to be certain. But you cannot speak a  _ word  _ of this to Cailan—“

“Speak a word of  _ what  _ to me, dear wife?” Cailan sauntered over, lips stained from a mixture of the mead in his hand and Anora’s lipstick. Strong arms wrapped Cecilia in a bear hug, tight enough that her back cracked and her feet lifted from the ground. “Little Cece, all grown up and on her first hunt! You would not  _ believe  _ how difficult it was to get Teyrn Cousland to allow her to join us!” Cailan kissed the top of her head with dramatic flair, dropping her back onto her feet before she could register what was going on. Cailan, always the character and one of her closest friends. She was honored that he had even asked her to join him on his birthday hunt: it was uncommon enough to have women trained in the art of fighting, and even more so to bring them on such a traditional hunt.

“More or less difficult than getting her on a horse?” Delilah quipped with a smile, and the three nobles laughed at Cecilia’s expense.

“Haha, very funny. If you must know, I ran with the mabari and Bann Kail, thank you very  _ much. _ ” Cecilia stuck out her tongue, free hand resting on her hip. 

“So you still ran with the hounds?” Anora joked, leaning against Cailan as they shared a laugh at the Bann’s expense. As if on cue, they heard the Bann cursing from the floor below them at some poor servant who did not deserve the ire of the arrogant man. 

“Prick,” Cailan commented, shaking his head and downing his goblet in one swig.

“You know, Cailan, this whole feast, a hunt, the nobility and the grand festivities of the week, it’s very…  _ Orlesian  _ of you,” Cecilia said with a smirk, tilting her head. “I’m surprised Teyrn Loghain allowed any of it.”

“Loghain would not know a good party if it were to happen in his breeches.” Cailan's dirty wink was met with a swat from Anora and chuckles from Cecilia and Delilah. “Ow! Love!”

Anora rolled her bright blue eyes. “Father only allowed it because of your incessant whining.” 

Cailan dropped his arms to the side, eyes wide and expression dramatic. “A man only turns twenty-four once!”

“And we’re all very proud of you for making it this far. Trust me, we’re surprised too,” Delilah mumbled behind her hand, and the three women burst out laughing.

Cailan pouted, and Cecilia struggled to bite back a joke referencing it. She may have been tipsy, but there was no need to outright bully the man.  _ It is his birthday, after all. And he  _ is  _ the King too. I enjoy having my head. _

When the laughter faded, Cailan reached out and motioned toward Cecilia with his goblet. If he noticed the wine sloshing over the edge and staining his gloves, he did not react to it. Instead he smiled and said a bit too loud for Cecilia’s comfort “You know what your father told me during the hunt today, Anora? That one day, Little Cece might be my general!”

Cecilia’s cheeks flushed with heat, and she averted her eyes to the floor. Her participation in the Fereldan army was a highly-contested issue between her, Loghain, and her parents. It was something she felt more than ready for, but Bryce continued to disallow her participation. But talks of leadership? Loghain must have been dipping into the wine earlier than everyone else. “Teyrn Loghain is too kind. If that day ever does come, hopefully it is not for a long while.” 

With her focus downwards, Cecilia missed as someone sauntered over to them on the balcony and slithered his arm across her shoulders. Snapping her head up at the foreign touch, she came face to face with Thomas Howe.  _ Great.  _ He had a grin plastered on his face, shaggy ginger hair falling over deep brown eyes.  _ How  _ he _ is related to Delilah and Nathaniel, I will never understand.  _

Just the thought of Nathaniel made her chew on her cheek, and Cecilia continued to look at the ground as Thomas ruffled her hair while speaking to Cailan. Even though Thomas looked drastically different from his older brother, their voices were nearly identical. It made Cecilia long for the man who completely changed her life in one week almost half a year ago, despite the fact that the past seven letters she had mailed him were still unanswered. 

Just as that happened, the band slid into another song, the vocalist — a pretty woman with tanned skin and tight curls — called everyone to the floor. Couples quickly paired up as the band begins to play a fast jig; Anora disappeared with Cailan, while Delilah was quickly swept away by a lesser Lord Cecilia did not recognize.

“Dance with me. You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Thomas’ voice broke her from her thoughts, her hand now in his. “It’s as if I have the plague.” 

Cecilia knew that Thomas Howe was a snake, just as his father was; a charismatic, dirty snake. But Cecilia could feel the eyes of both their parents bored into them as they watched them talk. With a sigh, Cecilia placed her glass on a table and allowed Thomas to lead her onto the dance floor. “One dance, Thomas. And if you step on my feet in these shoes, I’ll be terribly cross with you.

With as many lessons as she had, one would expect Cecilia to enjoy dancing by now; instead, it continued to be one of her least-favorite activities. Thankfully, this dance is one Cecilia knew well; even better, it included a partner change halfway through.  _ Thank the Maker. _

Despite stepping on her foot during the first step, Thomas was not the worst dancer in Ferelden, and Cecilia could even feel herself smiling as they swing-stepped together. For a moment, Cecilia forgot his slimy nature: his smile is wide and lopsided, and he seemed to actually enjoy this. He could be considered handsome, if Cecilia allowed herself to view him as such; even with his father’s red hair, Cecilia could see Eliane in his smile and in the structure of his face. When his hand landed on her rear, however, she remembered how she should view him: a barrier to independence, someone that she would have to be tied down to  _ “for the betterment of Ferelden,” _ as her parents reminded her time and time again.

Her foot found his shin on the final spin, and as Thomas hissed a curse in her ear, the vocalist called for the partner switch. The  _ blessed  _ partner switch. Cecilia turned away from him with a smirk, hands out and falling into the grasp of her new partner. The hands holding hers were more familiar than she expected, and Cecilia looked up to meet Teyrn Loghain’s eyes.  _ Loghain _ and  _ dancing _ are two words that never went together unless  _ does not  _ was between them, and Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Your mother,” Loghain said, as if he could read her mind, “is very persuasive.”

Cecilia giggled, crossing her ankles as Loghain lifted and spun her alongside the other partners on the dance floor. 

“And your father cannot hold his wine as well as he once did.” Loghain’s sly smile had Cecilia’s giggles turning into full-blown laughter, and she rested her forehead against the chest piece of his leather armor.  _ Arms of Mac Tir, that’s what he calls this,  _ Cecilia mused to herself, fingers brushing over leather gauntlets as their hands found each other’s once more. 

“Father does not realize that with age comes limits.” A cheeky smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I am  _ sure  _ you have realized that.”

Danger flashed in his eyes, and even though she knew the dance well, the dip still caught Cecilia off-guard. A heavy hand on the small of her back had warmth creeping on her cheeks, and Cecilia bit her bottom lip as Loghain leaned in. “Should I have?”

She released her bottom lip with a pop, hesitating for a moment as she felt it just barely brush against his. “Perhaps.”

Loghain said nothing, but that silence was enough to make a heat pool in her stomach. The dance continued, but intensity pervaded through it. This was the closest they have been in public to revealing what happened between the two of them behind closed doors. Even though she was sure no one saw, it still felt like every eye was on them as the dance neared its conclusion.

A cheer rippled through the nobles as the dance ended, clapping and whooping filling the large main hall. Cailan, ever the character, stepped up on the small stage and waves towards the crowd. “Great job everyone! Now, dancing the night away is fun and all, but you know what I would like to see for my birthday? A good, old-fashioned, Fereldan fight! Are there any volunteers?”

Before the crowd could react, Delilah yelled “ _ Cece! _ ” loud enough that her voice echoed.  _ She’s had entirely too much to drink,  _ Cecilia thought to herself, cheeks warm as the nobles chuckle and turn to face her.

“... Yes! Cece and Loghain! To show off everything Loghain has taught little Cece!” Cailan clapped his hands together, his blue eyes sparkling with happy, drunken bliss. Cecilia and Loghain barely had a moment to protest before the nobles started shuffling off of the floor, Cailan calling for servants to bring training swords.

Loghain and Cecilia had dueled more times than she could count, with him the victor every time. Even though she had been training with him for well over a decade, he always found little openings in her form or fighting and easily took her down. But this was the first time they dueled before a crowd of this size, and Cecilia hoped that maybe the eyes of the nobles on them would give her a bit of an advantage.

It almost looked like a Landsmeet, with the nobles crowded around and watching with wide eyes and bated breaths after clearing the floor for them. Cecilia looked for her father, expecting to hear him protest the idea, but Bryce was nowhere to be found, nor was Eleanor. When she found Fergus in the crowd, he mouthed  _ Father’s sick _ ; Cecilia shook her head with a smile, then turned back to Loghain.

_ If it is a show that King Cailan wants, then it is a show King Cailan shall get. _ Cecilia put her hands on her hips, sighing dramatically. “I hardly think it is fair that I must fight in this gown while Teyrn Loghain gets to strut around in his armor.”

“Yes, but no one told you you had to dress so fanciful tonight,” Loghain said with a smirk, watching Cecilia kick her heels off. “Nor fight barefoot.”

“Blissfully, your fighting is better than your dancing, so I do not think I will suffer too much from one round with you,” she teased right back. Grabbing the thick fabric of her emerald-green gown as she spoke, Cecilia parted it between her legs and folded the excess into her belt, turning the skirt into a fanciful pair of breeches to fight in. 

The servant returned, a sword tucked under each arm. Cailan took them from the man and tossed them to Loghain who, after comparing weights, tossed the lighter one to Cecilia. She inspected the craftsmanship of the blunt blade, rubbing her thumb against the soft grip.

“One round, winner decided by disarmament? Like a Landsmeet?” She asked, and Loghain nodded in response. 

A bow began the duel, and the crowd fell silent as they slowly stepped forward until they could cross their swords. She watched his eyes drift downwards as Cailan rallied the buzzing crowd, and she subtlety pushed her sword against his.

_ “Do not get distracted,”  _ Cecilia whispered, parting her lips just enough to reveal a hint of her tongue.

_ “Never, Demon,”  _ Loghain mouthed back, a twinkle in his eye that sent a shiver down her spine.

Cailan cleared his throat. “On my mark! Set! Fight!”

* * *

**9:30 Dragon, Kingsway**

**Denerim Palace**

Sweat dripped down Cecilia’s face.  _ Turn, parry, strike. Turn, parry, watch the— _

A shield bash knocked her back, hard enough that Cecilia spit out blood pooling in her mouth.  _ Fuck. _

Cecilia’s sword locked with Loghain’s, shields pushed together between them as they stare the other down. She expected a sharp comment, a sly smirk, a twinkle in Loghain’s eyes as he corrected her form as he had done so many times before. But this was no longer training, nor a fun duel for a King’s birthday.

_ Maker, was that barely a year ago? _

Outside the walls of Denerim Palace, Ferelden burned. Within the walls, a mentor and mentee dueled for the fate of their country.

Gone were the days of balls and birthday parties, of colorful gowns and playful fights and stolen kisses in dark corners of the palace. When Cecilia looked into Loghain’s eyes, she no longer saw the eyes of a man who taught her almost everything she knew.

Maker, she barely even saw  _ Loghain  _ in his eyes. He growled as their swords slipped, and Cecilia bared her bloody teeth to him. Loghain was gone, replaced by a man she could not recognize.

The fight had been a stalemate for nearly a quarter of an hour now, neither gaining the advantage over the other. But something shifted in their fight for dominance, and with a hard shoulder to his chest, Cecilia had Loghain stumbling. His face twisted in fury and he lashed out, swinging his sword in wide arcs. Cecilia barely managed to duck a swing, cold steel grazing the top of her hair.

But in his flurry, Loghain did the first thing he taught Cecilia not to do: he let his guard down.

Her sword fit perfectly into his arm guard, and with a hard flick of her wrist, Loghain lost his sword. The world felt like it was slowing down as she watched the sword fly across the room. A memory rushes to her mind, and for a moment, the Landsmeet goes gray.

_ Loghain smirked as he stood over her, offering a hand. His other hands flipped his sword over his knuckles as the crowd cheered. _

_ “Come now, Demon. That was a decent attempt. Next time, do not try things you haven’t mastered. That’s how you get disarmed.” _

_ Loghain’s smirk shifted into a smile as he looked down at Cecilia. She took his outstretched hand, squeezing it as she rose to her feet. _

_ “I’ll never be able to do that,” she says, pointing as Loghain flipped his sword once more for dramatic effect.  _

_ He chuckled, and the two of them bowed to the crowd of nobles, then the King Cailan. Even with her loss, Loghain held her hand up towards the crowd, the two of them drinking in the post-battle glow. “Sometimes, it takes moments of intense pressure to be able to do things you once thought impossible.” _

Loghain yelled when he realized his sword was gone, his face red as he turned to look at her. The angle they were fighting at was awkward, leaving her sword arm trapped. It was as if she herself were disarmed. Thinking back to every lesson, she knew that there was only one thing she could do as Loghain reared back to swing at her.

Drawing in a deep breath, Cecilia closed her eyes and steadied herself.

The crowd gasped as she let go of her sword. Cecilia was not sure if it was divine intervention or simply sheer luck, but the sword flipped over her knuckles just long enough for her to pull away from Loghain, and it fell into her waiting hand.

_ “Sometimes, it takes moments of intense pressure to be able to do things you once thought impossible.” _

Loghain’s words rang in her ears as she opened her eyes. Time sped up to a dramatic degree, and all of Cecilia’s building energy came out in a war cry. She grabbed his arm, pinning it to her side with her blade. It threw him off-balance with their height difference just long enough for Cecilia to throw up her shield. The metal rang out as it connected with Loghain’s face, leaving a blood splatter on the laurel painted upon the metal.

The storm cleared from Loghain’s eyes as blood dripped from his broken nose, and for a moment, the man Cecilia knew and loved came back to him.

From behind, Alistair broke the silence of the nobles with a cry of “kill him! Kill him now, Cecilia!”

But as Loghain looked at her, something inside of Cecilia broke. She was not sure what it was, but instead of shifting her arm and dragging her blade across his neck, Cecilia squeezed her eyes shut as her mind screamed at her.

_ Do you remember how he dried your tears at Ostagar? How he held you, comforted you in your worst hours? Loghain was always there for you at your worst moments in life. You need to be there for him in his. _

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and she was not sure if it was to Loghain, Alistair, Ferelden, or herself. 

Loghain was weak, and fell to his knees with a simple leg sweep. Cecilia took a step back as the nobles cheered, wiping her face on the back of her gauntlet as Alistair, Arl Eamon, and Anora rushed forward. Nobility surrounded her, calling out to her, thanking her, but Cecilia could not take her eyes off of Loghain.

“I underestimated you, Cecilia,” Loghain whispered, his breath a hard wheeze as he slowly pushed himself back to his feet. The crowd fell silent once more, taking a step back. “I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong. I should have known better with you, of all people.” He paused, and Cecilia swore there was gentility in his eyes as he met her gaze. “There is a strength in you I have not seen anywhere since Maric died.”

A breath, and Cecilia blinked as Loghain raised a hand. “I yield.”

Cecilia knew what she had to do. Loghain hurt so many people, hurt  _ her _ . 

But at the same time, she just could not do  _ it _ .

“I accept your surrender, Loghain.”

“I  _ didn’t _ just hear you say that.” Alistair cut in, stepping next to her with wide eyes and sweat beading on his brow. “You’re going to let him live? After everything he’s done?!” His hand went to the sword on his back, fingers twitching as he turned to stare down Loghain. “Kill him already!”

“Wait! There is another option.”

A voice, accented and deep, interrupted them before Alistair could land the killing blow. Riordan, a senior Orlesian Grey Warden, stepped through the crowd. His face was soft, eyes bright as he turned to Cecilia. 

“The Teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining.”

Cecilia blinked.

_ Oh, shit. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for the kudos and comments!


End file.
